


Love You Forever, Like You For Always

by eurythmic



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Child Abuse, Daddy Issues, Hand Jobs, M/M, Non Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 19:22:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurythmic/pseuds/eurythmic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obadiah picks up the pieces when everyone comes to Tony's birthday party save for the one person who matters most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love You Forever, Like You For Always

**Author's Note:**

> Cleaned up from the original version [here](http://wanton-avengers.livejournal.com/2399.html?thread=90975#t90975). 
> 
> I left Tony's age deliberately vague, but since he went to MIT at 15 you can assume that he's younger than that in this fic. Please read the warnings!

In the second drawer on the right-hand side of a desk that belonged to the late Obadiah Stane, there was a photograph of a young Tony Stark. In the photograph, Tony sat at the head of his family's dining room table blowing out the candles on a massive ice cream cake. If you looked closely, you could see that the cake was melting, sitting in a pool of chocolate on its heavy silver platter. A closer look would show that the clock on the wall read 11:15 p.m., and that the table was covered in empty plates and glasses of red punch with lipstick marks on the rim. There was a cluster of brightly colored balloons tied to the back of a chair.

Tony had wanted everyone to wait for his father to get home from work. He never came.

"Now that he's dug his heels in he'll never go to bed," his mother sighed. She and Obadiah had just seen the last of the guests out the door, contacts of Howard's who only showed up in the hopes they'd be able to get a bit of business talk in. "Tony's got a stubborn streak the size of Texas."

Obadiah placed a hand on the center of her back, guiding her toward the staircase at the end of the foyer. "Leave him to me," he said, and placed a brotherly kiss on her cheek. If Maria noticed the way he paused to take in her gardenia-scented perfume, she didn't say anything. "I'll take care of him."

"I honestly don't know what I'd do without you, Obie." Maria gently squeezed his hand before retreating up the stairs, her heels clicking noisily all the way.

Tony was just where they'd left him, slumped down into the chair and glaring at the cake like it had personally offended him. He'd pulled the neck of his green turtleneck up over his nose so all you could see were his eyes, and every few minutes he'd sigh and kick at the table legs. Tony had left school in the middle of term just for this. _Your father misses you_ , his mother had said. _He wants to see you again_.

"Hey, Tony, I think you forgot to eat your cake there," said Obadiah. He had a drink in one hand, something a deep copper color with a single ice cube.

"Don't patronize me, Stane." Tony picked up a discarded party hat and toyed with its elastic string, twisting it around his fingers until all the blood was forced into the tips and they turned the same bright swollen read as the balloons Jarvis had hung everywhere. "I don't even like ice cream, mom just bought it because _he_ likes chocolate."

Obadiah pulled out a chair and pushed it back far enough so that he could sit with his feet propped up on their brand-new antique reclaimed wood table. Tony pulled his collar back into its proper position and grinned.

"If mom finds out she'll kill you."

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," Obadiah said with a shrug. Tony looked at the table, at Obadiah, and back at the table once more. Then he pushed his chair away from the table and put his feet up, too.

"You won't tell, right?" Tony's eyes kept darting over to the entrance of the dining room every few seconds.

"Nah. It'll be our secret." Obadiah sipped his drink, making a noise of appreciation at the fine taste of Howard Stark's scotch.

Obadiah rarely made Tony do anything he didn't want to. It was one many things Tony liked about him. All the other adults in his life just wanted to show him off. They were always asking him questions on intelligent-sounding topics like the black hole information paradox just to impress their friends, nosy journalists, or one of those smelly old couples the headmaster at Andover hoped would cough up the cash for a new science wing. But Obadiah was content to just hang out and let Tony spin in the desk chair in his office at SI while he yelled at people on the phone. Once, he'd even let Tony smoke one of his cigars. It had earned him Tony's undying loyalty for a week, even though Tony had been nauseous for hours afterward.

"I wanna light my birthday candles now," Tony announced, silently daring Obie to say anything about it. But Obie just just dropped his feet to the floor and fished a book of matches from the pocket of his suit jacket.

"Light 'em up--I'll go get the camera." He ruffled Tony's hair, letting his hand linger for a moment on the back of his neck. "I can see the headlines now--'Tony Stark Eats Entire Melted Ice Cream Cake'. Maybe I'll finally get my Pulitzer."

The joke wasn't all that funny, but it still made Tony laugh.

###

An hour later, Obadiah shepherded a sleepy, tipsy Tony up to his bedroom. He'd gotten his hands on Obadiah's drink at some point, and Obadiah had just shrugged and pulled out a second tumbler. He closed the door behind them, and the only light in the room came from the small night light that Tony never got around to throwing out. He said it was nice to have it on in the event of late-night creative inspiration. The cleaning staff had been in and out while he was at school, and all of his tools and half-finished projects were neatly organized on his desk in the corner. Obadiah pulled back the corner of the quilt and Tony collapsed on top of it. He knelt on the floor and began untying Tony's shoes.

"I'm not a baby, I can undress myself," Tony complained, half of his words swallowed by a jaw-cracking yawn. He sat up and yanked his shirt over his head, followed by trousers with a military-sharp crease that his mother had insisted he wear. In just his t-shirt and underwear, Tony looked vulnerable; his young body composed entirely of awkwardly long limbs and pale skin. He pulled off his socks then dove under the covers.

"I know," Obadiah said, "I just like looking out for you. Didn't your dad ever do this kind of thing? Tuck you in, say good night?"

Tony scowled. "Mom used to, sometimes. Dad doesn't do anything but work."

Obadiah sat next to Tony on the bed and toed off his own shoes, then threw his suit jacket over the back of a chair. He scratched his beard thoughtfully and sighed. "You're older now, so I can tell you this. The truth is, Tony--not everyone is cut out to be a parent. Howard wants to like you, but maybe it's just not meant to be."

"What do you mean?" Tony asked. His voice cracked awkwardly in the middle of the sentence.

"Come on, Tony. Don't play dumb. Why do you think he sent you to boarding school in the first place?" Tony didn't respond, his eyes firmly focused on the ceiling. "I know it's not what you want to hear, but part of growing up is learning to accept the hard truths."

For a while, the room was entirely silent save for the electric buzz of the alarm clock on the bedside table. Tony sniffed once, twice, and the next time Obadiah turned to look at him, his cheeks were wet with telltale moisture.

"Why doesn't he like me?" Tony's voice was muffled by the edge of the quilt he was using to wipe at his eyes. "What did I do wrong?"

"I don't know, Tony. But I like you. I always will."

"Good." A pause. "I love you, Uncle Obie."

Obadiah lifted up the quilt and curled up against Tony's back. He worked his thumbs into the knots of tension at the base of the Tony's neck until he relaxed a little more and leaned into Obadiah's touch. Tony began to drift off and Obadiah changed tactics, running his hands over Tony's body in broad strokes. His fingers brushed over the skin of Tony's arms and down the faint trail of hair on his stomach to end just beneath the elastic band of his jockeys. He waited a moment, then pushed his hand further down to gently cup the warm weight resting between Tony's thighs. Obadiah closed his eyes and rubbed his thumb over the head, smiling to himself as Tony's dick rapidly grew stiffer in his hand. Tony tensed beneath him for a moment, and only a moment, then he went limp and let sleep drag him under for good.

It was nearly one a.m.--Obadiah needed to be getting home. There was a board meeting tomorrow at eight a.m., and Howard wanted to meet with him beforehand. He carefully disentangled himself from the bedclothes and brushed a kiss against Tony's forehead. "I love you too, Tony."

###

In the second drawer on the right-hand side of a desk that belonged to the late Obadiah Stane, there was a photograph of a young Tony Stark. After his death, a young man from the phalanx of assistants Pepper kept around brought it to her in a box of things that weren't important to enough to put into classified storage, but too important to throw out. It was the first time she'd seen a photo of Tony at that age that didn't come from a magazine spread. The collar of his turtleneck was turned up in the wrong direction and his hair was mussed. Instead of looking like the future heir to one of the world's largest fortunes, he looked like a regular boy.

Pepper kept it on her desk, planning on giving it to Tony. It was probably taken by his mother--maybe he'd want it.

She forgot about it until two weeks later, when Tony appeared in her office and launched directly into a spiel on how he was _this_ close to getting the board to accept that yes, a miniaturized arc reactor definitely had practical applications and no, he wouldn't design a stripped-down model of the armor for mass reproduction. As always, he fiddled with anything on her desk within reach while he talked--pens, her phone, the cat-shaped paperweight her mother had given her for Christmas. A small photograph in a simple wooden frame.

"Where'd you get this?" He picked it up slowly, like he was handling an explosive.

Obie was still understandably a sore spot, so Pepper went with, "One of the interns found it in storage. I thought you might want it. It's such a sweet photo; you can tell whoever took it really loved you."

Tony stayed quiet for so long that Pepper began to wonder if something was wrong. His parents were always a sensitive subject. Maybe he didn't want the photo after all. She'd reached out a hand to bring him back to earth when he looked up at her again and gave her a stiff smile.

"Yeah," he said, still staring at the image. "Something like that."


End file.
